Jim Roth and the Academy of Adventure
by CleverWhales
Summary: Harry Potter was rescued from the Dursleys by Social Services and adopted by the Roth family.
1. A Letter for Nobody

One fine Saturday morning in early July, Jim Roth woke up with an odd feeling. It was like something had changed. He crawled out of bed and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then headed downstairs.

On the first floor he was greeted by his sister, Emiko, who smiled at him. 'Mornin',' she yawned.

Jim frowned as he followed her to the ground floor. 'I feel weird.'

'Is that strange-weird or ill-weird?'

'Weird-weird.'

'Ah, well, Jim,' grinned Emiko. 'That's just your natural state of being, isn't it?' She ducked Jim's swipe at her head and ran off to the kitchen, laughing. Jim rolled his eyes and headed after her.

The kitchen table was covered with breakfast foods, but other than Jim and Emiko there was no sign of life. Emiko had already devoured a croissant and was halfway through another one. Jim took one for himself and sat down across from his sister. 'Where is everyone?'

Emiko shrugged. 'Mum left for Norwich last night, remember? She's not back 'til tomorrow. Harry's at choir. Dad's probably in his studio.'

Jim nodded as he munched on his croissant. He _did_ remember Mum saying something about Norwich. She was giving a paper or something, and visiting some friends.

He finished his croissant, but, as he reached for another, they heard the garden gate clang open and the letterbox squeaked as the mail was pushed through. Emiko and Jim looked at each other, then, at exactly the same moment, leapt up and raced for the front door. Emiko got there first, but Jim managed to snatch the letters off her and got back to the kitchen before she could wrestle them off him again.

'I win.' He grinned at Emiko.

'I'm still beating you.'

'Not by much.'

'Whatever.' Emiko tried to feign indifference, but she'd never been a good actor.

Jim smirked at her, then, started to sort the letters.

'Bill, bill, magazine, bill, postcard from Uncle Tim, bill, and – what's this?'

The letter at the bottom of the pile was thick and heavy, the envelope made of something like parchment. The address was written in green ink – handwritten, not printed.

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Top Bedroom**

**102 Sudbury Gardens**

**London**

'Who's H. Potter?' asked Emiko, reading over his shoulder.

'I don't know. I'll ask Dad.'

'Could it be Harry?'

'Since when is Harry's surname Potter, and since when does he share a room with me?'

Emiko considered this for a moment. Jim turned the envelope over. 'There's no return address.' There was, however, a stamp on the sealing wax. _Who still uses sealing wax?_ thought Jim. It depicted a shield, quartered, each containing a different animal – he could make out a snake, a bird of some sort, and… a lion? He couldn't work out the fourth animal. In the middle was an H. Jim frowned at it.

'Do you recognise that symbol?' he asked Emiko. She looked at it and shrugged.

'Nope.'

'I'll ask Dad.'

Jim took the letter and the bills and wandered down into the basement, where Dad's studio was. He was indeed there, doing a screen print of a cat. He looked up when Jim came in.

'Are those for me?'

'These are.' Jim handed him the bills. 'This –' he waved the letter – 'is for nobody.'

'What do you mean?'

'It's addressed to my bedroom, but the name is definitely not me. My name isn't H. Potter, right?'

Dad took the letter. 'I'm not so sure. It might be.'

'What?'

'I can't remember what your birth name is. It _might_ be H. Potter. We can check if you want. Let me just wash my hands.'

Jim waited, then when he was done ran ahead of him to the filing cabinet of important documents.

'Okay,' said his father. 'Let's see.'

It seemed to take forever to find the file of adoption papers, where there was the proof of the adoption of Harry, Jim, and Emiko.

'Right. Here we are. James Roth… born… yup. It's yours. Harry James Potter.'

'My name was Harry too?'

'Yes, so we took your middle name. Two Harries would be too confusing.'

'My name was Harry Potter?'

'Yes.'

Jim considered this for a moment. 'I prefer Jim Roth.'

Emiko wandered in. 'So, who's the mysterious H. Potter?'

'Me,' said Jim, and ripped open the envelope.

* * *

'It's a fake.'

'I have to agree with your sister. There's no such thing as magic.'

Jim frowned. 'But don't you remember the snakes in Spain?'

They did. Once, while on holiday in Spain, the family had visited a zoo. Jim's favourite enclosure had been the snakes, so he'd run on ahead. To his disappointment, they'd all been asleep.

'I wish they'd wake up,' he'd whispered to his dad, and, as if by magic, the four snakes inside had woken up, slithered to the front, and stared at Jim for several minutes, only stopping when he and his family left.

Dad shook his head. 'That was coincidence.'

'You always said there was something weird about their behaviour.'

'Weird. It wasn't magic.'

'What about when Harry lost his voice?' Once, Harry had come down with a bad cold. This was a major problem as Harry was to sing a solo in an important concert the following day and he could barely speak. Jim had sat next to him and talked to him for about five minutes, and the next everyone knew, he was singing all the parts to Britten's War Requiem – simultaneously.

'…fluke?'

Jim was about to respond with a scathing reply, but before he could there was a tapping on the kitchen window. He shot a confused glance at Dad and got up to have a look.

Pulling up the blinds, he was greeted by the sight of a barn owl, tapping gently at the window pane.

'Um. What?' he asked his father.

His father looked just as confused.

Emiko jumped up and joined Jim at the window. 'Look, Jim, it's got something tied to its leg.'

She was right. A piece of paper – or parchment, Jim supposed – was tied to the owl's left leg.

Jim eased the window open and the owl hopped in. Glancing at his father, Jim reached out and carefully untied the note from the owl's leg.

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**A wizard will be arriving at your location shortly.**

**Please do not be alarmed.**

Jim frowned. 'A wiz –'

There was a loud crack and a wizard arrived at their location. He was small with a large beard, dressed in swirling blue robes.

'Harry Potter!' exclaimed the small man with evident delight. 'I am Professor Flitwick of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

They were alarmed.

Professor Flitwick explained the situation quite well, and Dad seemed to take it calmly, even when the little man started floating the sofa they were sitting on around the house. By the end, Dad was convinced that Hogwarts was the Right Place for Jim, which was exactly what Jim thought Flitwick's aim was.

When Flitwick was finished, Dad looked at Jim. 'So, what do you think?'

Jim considered his options. If he didn't go here, he would have to go to the local state school, Northgate Boys – which wasn't even a boys' school any more. Northgate wasn't a bad school, and he had friends who would be there, but it wasn't very exciting. Hogwarts sounded interesting, and learning magic?

'I'd like to come,' he said to Professor Flitwick.

'Excellent!' exclaimed the little man. 'I shall inform Professor Dumbledore immediately!' He leapt off the sofa, which actually made him look even smaller, and made to go.

'But – ' Jim started to say.

'Yes, Mr. Potter?'

'Um. My name isn't Harry Potter.'

Flitwick seemed to take this badly. 'But… you look so much like your father…'

'Mr. Flitwick, sir, this is my father.' Jim indicated Dad. 'I was born Harry Potter, but I was adopted by the Roths, my mother and father. I have a brother called Harry, an older brother, so when I was adopted they chose to name me James, or Jim. My name is Jim Roth, sir. I hope this doesn't cause too many difficulties.'

'Not… not at all, Mr. Pot – Mr. Roth,' stuttered the little man. 'I shall inform Professor Dumbledore at once. Good day Mr. – Roth, Mr. Roth, Miss Roth.'

With that, he spun around and disappeared, the only sign he'd been there some scratches on the ceiling and the echo of a crack that was, even now, fading in their ears.

'Well,' said Emiko. 'He seemed to take that rather well.'


	2. Hole in the Wall

Gringotts Wizarding Bank was a bit of an architectural disaster, considered Jim.

In _theory_ it was a nice place, made of white marble with rows of columns, several floors high. _Gringotts Wizarding Bank_ was written on the front, just to make sure you knew.

In reality it was a bit of a dump. The pillars were wonky and the whole building looked, well, like it was about to fall down. It was probably held up by magic. In fact, Jim thought as he glanced around Diagon Alley, most of the shops seemed to be constructed out of an odd combination of magic and willpower.

But evidently they were safe, if there were no warning signs or screams. Indeed, the street was full of people – witches and wizards, Jim guessed – buying, selling, shouting, chatting, and just generally being.

'Don't get left behind, Jim!' exclaimed Mum, grabbing Jim's wrist and dragging him after the rest of the family. He stumbled after her, until they caught up with Dad and Emiko. Harry was already halfway up the steps to the doorway.

'Hey, Jim! Em! Have you _seen_ this place!' he shouted to them. 'It's like Christmas, but in Australia!'

'Australia?' whispered Emiko in Jim's ear.

'It's Christmas is in the summer,' he whispered back.

'Oh. Why doesn't he just say that then?'

'He's Harry. Why do you think?'

'Good point.'

However, Harry was right about one thing: it _did_ feel like Christmas. The bustling of the crowds, coupled with the bright lights and street vendors advertising their wares – it was like something out of a film.

Inside Gringotts, it was much calmer, but Jim still couldn't shake off the feeling that he was in a film. The little men – goblins? could they be goblins? – counted money in such unison that a rhythmic thumping sound filled the long room and made Jim feel that someone was about to start a song-and-dance routine.

At the end of the long room was the counter they were heading for. Another goblin sat there, also counting money, but at half the speed. He watched the Roths carefully as the five of them made there way up towards his counter.

'Ah – hello,' said Dad.

The goblin waited for him to continue.

'I – uh, we were wondering about taking some money out of the bank.'

'Do you have an account?'

The goblin's voice was low and gravelly. Dad faltered and Mum took over, her 'efficient' smile on her face.

'That's what we don't know. You see, it's not ours, it's our son Jim's.'

'…you don't know if your son has an account here? That sounds a bit… irresponsible.'

'Well, you see, he's adopted, and as we understand it, his family, who were wizards – unlike us – had a bit of money.'

Jim smiled.

'And their family name?'

'Potter.'

The name seemed to mean a lot to the goblin, as he nearly toppled backwards off his stool. 'Potter? This must be Harry, then?'

'Yes that's right.'

The goblin leaned over his counter and had a good look at Jim. 'Yes, I see now. We do have an account in the name of Potter, and it has a modest amount in it. Come with me.' He hopped off his stool and led the party to a small vehicle which resembled either a car or a rollercoaster ride. 'Please get in.'

The five Roths squashed in, and the goblin hopped in what appeared to be the driver's seat.

'Please hold on tight,' he said.

What followed was a ride that put any fairground ride to shame. The car moved at about the speed of light, if that was even possible, and had so many twists and turns that it would have made a very effective, if slightly OTT, centrifuge. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as far as Jim's body was concerned) the speed meant that it was all over very quickly, and the car was stopping outside a large iron door. It was featureless, except for a small keyhole on one side.

The goblin got out, closely followed by the Roths.

'I don't suppose you have a key?'

'No. Sorry, sir,' Jim replied.

'We must do it the hard way then.' Saying that, the goblin stood by the keyhole, fiddled with it, and after five seconds the door slowly swung open.

'Please help yourself.'

Jim felt his mouth drop open. 'A modest amount' did not even begin to cover it.

Emiko, next to him, was speechless for the first time in her life. Behind him, Harry was stuttering. 'It's all – what – gold – what - _what?_'

Jim managed to take a step towards the vault. 'What is this worth?' he asked the goblin.

'The gold coins are Galleons, silver are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. One Galleon is seventeen Sickles; one Sickle is worth twenty-nine Knuts.'

'So… how much money should I take?'

'That, Mr. Potter, is up to you.'

Realising he wouldn't get any help from the goblin, Jim glanced at his parents. They seemed just as unsure as Harry, but after a moment, Mum shook herself and became the picture of efficiency. 'Let's just take what we feel will be enough, okay?' Jim nodded, and Mum produced a bag out of nowhere and started filling it with gold and silver coins.

'We should probably take a few bronze pieces,' said Harry.

'Knuts,' corrected Jim.

'We should take of them too.'

Mum obediently slipped a handful of Knuts into the bag. 'Is that enough, do you think, Jim?'

Jim looked into the bag, which was so full Mum could barely carry it. 'I think that's enough, Mum.'

'Okay, good. Simon, do you think you could carry this?' She handed the bag over to Dad, who managed to heave it onto his shoulder. 'Shall we go then?'

* * *

Back on street level, Diagon Alley seemed even more full than it had been before. Dad glanced around. 'What do you need, Jim?'

Jim looked at his list. 'Robes – let's try there.' He pointed at a shop front reading _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

Inside the shop it was a little quieter. A plump, squat woman came running towards them when she heard the bell. 'Oh – are you after Hogwarts robes? Not a problem – how many?'

'Just this one.' Mum pushed Jim forward. He smiled at the woman.

'Yes, of course, of course. Just come through here – we've got another one for Hogwarts already. If you'd just like to wait here?' she said to the other Roths. 'This won't take long.'

Indeed, there was another student being fitted for Hogwarts robes. She had bushy brown hair and, as Jim saw when she smiled at him, somewhat prominent buck teeth.

'Hello,' she said. 'I'm Hermione Granger.'

'Jim Roth,' Jim replied, as Madam Malkin started fussing over some cloth.

'It's very nice to meet you, Jim Roth,' replied Hermione. 'Are you by chance any relation to the painter Simon Roth?'

'Yes, actually,' Jim said, lifting up his arms as instructed. 'He's my dad.'

'Oh! I recently went to an exhibition of his at the Tate – I especially liked the pictures from the Lake District.'

'Really? You should tell him that – he's just out there.'

Hermione blinked then opened her eyes wide. 'Are you – he's actually out there?'

'Yeah, he's my dad! He's waiting for me!'

Hermione's eyes grew wider, until Madam Malkin turned to her. 'Alright, dear, you're done. Just come to the till and you can pay…' She led the girl off.

* * *

After Madam Malkin's, the family headed towards the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. The list of books Jim had to buy was long, but some of them looked very interesting.

'A History of Magic,' read out Harry. 'Hey, Jim, can I have this one?'

'Only if you do all my homework. Now give that here!' Jim snatched the book from Harry, but in doing so, lost his balance and tripped over into a girl of about his own age.

'Oh! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?' he asked, beginning to pick up the books he'd scattered.

'I'm fine,' she mumbled, then, 'No, really, leave them… it's fine –'

By that point, however, Jim had finished stacking her books into a small heap and handed them back to her. 'Sorry again. Here –' He offered her a hand up. She took it hesitantly and Jim pulled her to her feet.

'I'm Jim Roth.' Jim stuck out a hand.

'…Susan Bones.' She shook it and gave him a small smile.

'Nice meeting you, Susan.' Jim smiled at her.

'You too.'

Jim turned to go and then, a thought occurred. 'Hey,' he said, turning back again. 'It's not your first year at Hogwarts this year, is it?'

Susan smiled again, and this time it was a proper smile, full of relief and excitement and happiness. 'Yes, it is. I… is it your first year too?'

'Yup. I'm really looking forward to it.'

'Me too… thank you. For… thank you.' She smiled once more and then ducked away.

'Who was that, Jim?' asked Emiko.

'I think,' replied Jim, scanning the bookshelf for _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, 'that I have just made a new friend.'


	3. Wands and Ice Cream and Owls, Oh My!

If Gringotts was a disaster, then Ollivander's was a catastrophe. The windows were old and dusty, and one of them seemed cracked, while the paint on the sign above the door was faded and peeling. Jim squinted. 'Makers of Fine Wands since… 382 B.C.? That can't be right.' He turned to his father. 'Can it?'

'Ask your mother. She's the historian.' But even his mother seemed surprised by the date.

'Well, at least this is the right place, despite the… quaintness,' was all she said.

'You mean the dilapidated-ness,' muttered Harry.

Inside, the shop, the air was dry and musty, with shelves upon shelves of long, rectangular boxes. But there was no one there, or so it seemed.

Emiko coughed. 'Well, no one here, let's go.' She turned to the door, but, as she was about to open the door, a man walked out from one aisle.

He was clearly very old – Jim wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been the one to found the shop – with white hair and pale, silvery eyes, which were fixed on Jim.

'Mr. Ollivander?' said Jim's father. 'We're here to buy a wand.'

'Yes, of course… I've been expecting you, Mr. Potter.'

Jim felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 'My name is Jim Roth, sir.'

Ollivander raised one eyebrow. 'A wand, you say? Yes… the wizard does not choose the wand, but the wand the wizard.' Jim smiled nervously. 'Now… where do we start… oh yes. Let's try this one, hmm?' He pulled a box from a shelf and opened it up to reveal a wand. 'Apple and unicorn tail hair, twelve-and-a-half inches, nice and supple.' He handed it to Jim, but immediately snatched it back.

'No, no, of course not, what was I thinking?' He selected another. 'Poplar and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, quite brittle.' He handed it to Jim, but once again snatched it back before Jim's fingers had even closed around it. 'Let's try this one, maybe? Maple and dragon heartstring, eleven-and-three-quarter inches, very swishy.' This one he let Jim hold properly, but he still took it back, declaring it wrong for some reason.

Then, with slightly shaking hands, he reached for another box. 'Maybe this one… maybe…' He handed this wand to Jim. 'Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.' Jim held it for a moment, then looked expectedly back at Ollivander. 'No…' the old man finally sighed. 'Maybe not.'

Ollivander tried countless other wands. As he raced around the shop, Jim could hear Emiko starting to giggle. He rolled his eyes. 'Hey, Mum,' he whispered, 'I saw an ice cream parlour down the road. Do you want to take Em there? I think she's getting bored.'

His mother took the hint, and swiftly departed with Emiko in tow. Harry stayed behind to watch.

'Aren't you getting bored?' Jim asked Harry.

'No, this is fascinating! I'm trying to work out why the wands were wrong for you. I think that holly one was too special.'

Jim was about to retort with something witty and amusing, but was interrupted by Ollivander carrying yet another wand box. 'Let's try this one. Cedar and unicorn tail-hair, ten-and-a-half inches, unyielding.' He handed the wand to Jim. Jim took it, feeling somewhat unexcited, but as he took it, he could feel that this wand was _different_. It wasn't just a stick of wood, it was a _magical_ stick of wood.

Ollivander's mouth creased into a smile. 'Yes, that one will do nicely, I think.' He took it back and carefully placed it back in the box, which he then handed to Jim.

'That will be seven Galleons. Thank you… and good luck, Mr. Potter.' Ollivander looked right into Jim's eyes.

Jim tried not to shiver. 'It's Roth, sir…'

'C'mon, Jim, let's go get some ice cream.'

The last Jim saw of Mr. Ollivander, he was still staring at him with his strange, silvery eyes.

* * *

They found their mother and sister outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Emiko had a huge ice cream, which seemed to contain at least four flavours, five toppings, and a sauce. Jim sat down next to her.

'What've you got there, sis?'

'Mint, chocolate, raspberry, and maple ice cream with butterscotch sauce and chocolate chips, nuts, meringues, dried cranberries, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.'

'Can I try some?' He reached in.

'No! Get your own!' She relented. 'You can have the beans. They're a bit weird.' She picked them off and put them in Jim's outstretched hand.

Jim picked one up and examined it. It was a strange pinky-grey. 'By weird, what do you mean?'

Emiko giggled. 'Try it and see.'

Jim put it in his mouth and immediately spat it out. 'Ugh! What is that thing?'

Emiko licked her ice cream. 'When they say ever flavour, they mean _every flavour_. What was yours?'

'It tasted like… like that fermented fish we had in Sweden, you remember?'

'Surströmming? I quite liked that.'

'Yeah, well, I didn't.'

'Try another one.'

Jim hesitated, and then put a pink-and-white-striped one in his mouth.

'And?'

'Not bad. Strawberries and cream.'

For some unfathomable reason, Emiko looked disappointed. 'Oh. Okay. Eat another!'

Jim was tempted, but disdained and put them in his pocket. 'I'll save them for later, thanks.' He got up and headed towards his parents. 'What's happening?'

His mother turned to him. 'On the supply list it says you can have an owl, cat, or toad, and we were wondering –'

'Of course!' exclaimed Jim. 'Of course I want a pet!'

'That's settled, then.' She shot a glare at her husband, who shrugged apologetically. 'I spotted a pet shop down there – shall we take a look?'

* * *

Eeylops Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie could be counted as a pet shop, if pet shops usually sold owls and toads. Which, Jim was sure, some of them did, but most of them? Probably not.

Mind you, the fact that 'owl' was found in the name of the shop gave away _that_ secret, but it still didn't quite prepare you for the noise. Most people seemed to thing that owls went 'toowit-toowoo', but that was only tawny owls. There were others in here, most audibly several barn owls, each occasionally letting out a slightly alarming screech.

'See anything you fancy?' yelled his mother in Jim's ear. He shook his head in reply, at the same time noticing that Emiko had found a friend. Namely, a tiny black kitten. She cradled it in her arms, and seemed delighted when it nuzzled its head into the crook of her elbow.

Jim's eye was caught by a barn owl, sitting near a light. It seemed to notice him staring and stared back. He nudged his mother.

'Can I get that owl?' he asked, pointing at the owl. His mother nodded, and beckoned the shop owner over.

Jim went and crouched by Emiko. 'I see you have a friend.'

'She's called Citronmarmelada and she's the most beautiful cat in the world,' Emiko breathed.

'I'm sure Mum would get her for you,' Jim replied, nodding at Mum, who now held the owl in a cage at the desk.

'I think I will.' Emiko got up and walked over to her mother. 'Mum.'

Their mother looked down at the cat. 'No, Emiko.'

'Please, Mum.'

The kitted chose that moment to open her eyes. They were a beautiful deep amber colour, like golden syrup. Their mother closed her eyes.

'Alright. The cat too.'

Outside the shop, Emiko carried the cat box with a sleeping Citronmarmelada, while Jim took the owl cage.

'What will you call him, Jim?' asked Harry.

'I think,' Jim replied, 'I'm going to call him Icarus. What do you think of that, Icarus?' Jim reached in to stroke the owl.

'Ow!' He looked at where Icarus had bitten him.

'Icarus,' said Harry, 'thinks that is a stupid name.'

'Let's go home,' sighed their mother.

'You know, I think it's beginning to bleed.'

'Come on, boys.'

'Yeah, look, there, blood.'


	4. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

I just wanted to say, sorry about the huge gaps between updates. I've been doing GCSEs and revision has been eating into most of my spare time.

* * *

King's Cross station was crowded at ten o'clock on the first of September, but not so crowded that the Roths couldn't reach the platforms. Like the Diagon Alley trip, it had turned into a family outing, with Dad and Mum leading the way, Emiko and Jim following with the trunk and Icarus's cage, and Harry trailing behind them with a book.

'I still think "Icarus" is a stupid name for an owl,' grumbled Emiko. 'People will call him "Icky", and you'll be known as the one with the icky owl.'

'More than that, he might take after his namesake.' Jim and Emiko looked at where the voice originated. Harry looked back; evidently he'd been listening more than it appeared. 'You know. Flying too close to the sun, wax melting, wings falling off, bye-bye sweet world, hello Hades.'

'He's an owl, Harry. His wings are not about to fall off.'

'He might be an Animagus.'

'_What?_'

'Animagus. They were mentioned in one of your textbooks as an example of human Transfiguration. They're people who can turn into animals.'

'He's not an Animagus. And don't read my books!' Jim snatched the book Harry was holding and looked at the front, revealing it to be _Hogwarts: A History_. 'You're not even _going_ to Hogwarts, you don't need to read it.'

'Extra reading material. That book's good, you should read it.'

'Sure, Harry. Maybe on the train, if I can't make any _friends_.'

'Can I read it? I'm thinking of coming.'

Jim frowned at Emiko. 'I think they choose you, rather than the other way round.'

'There's a school in Japan, Em, you could go there.'

'Shut up, Harry!' Jim and Emiko chorused.

Eventually they found Platform Ten, and Platform Nine, but there was no sign of a Nine and Three Quarters. Dad scratched his head as he guided the family to a pillar between the two platforms.

'I'm sorry, Jim, I'm not sure how to get you to there,' he frowned.

Emiko nudged Harry. 'Hey, put your excessive reading to some use. How do we get to the platform?'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know, I hadn't got that far. I was reading about the Great Hall. Apparently the ceiling's enchanted to look like the sky.'

'Right. I'll bear that in mind when I'm wondering why it's raining indoors. You don't know how to get to the train?'

'If you give me back the book, I can see –'

'Not a chance. _I'll_ be doing the looking.' Jim opened up the book he was holding and was about to locate the contents page, when something small, blond, and pushing a trolley shot past him, tripped, and fell over.

'Hey, you okay?' Jim asked, offering a hand to the something. Now it was no longer moving at Mach 2, he could see that the something was in fact, a boy, maybe his age, and, judging from the trolley, on his way to boarding school.

'I'm sorry!' the boy exclaimed, taking Jim's proffered hand and getting up off the floor. 'I was aiming for the pillar but I must have missed!'

This seemed such a strange thing to say that Jim realised he was probably talking to another Hogwarts student. This was reinforced when the boy, seeing his trolley and, more specifically, the empty cage on top, did a quick three-sixty. 'Trevor! Have you seen Trevor? He's my toad, he's always running off…'

There was a giggle from behind, and Jim turned and looked at his sister. 'Emiko, give him the toad.'

Emiko handed the toad over, biting her lip to keep the laughter away. The boy seemed delighted to receive him, and hastily put him in the cage. 'Don't do that again, Trevor, okay?' He straightened up and smiled sheepishly at Jim. 'Sorry about that.'

'It's fine. My sister certainly enjoyed it.' Emiko had buried her head in Harry's chest, and shaking helplessly with laughter.

The boy blushed and looked down.

At that point an old woman rushed towards them. 'Neville! Neville Longbottom!' (Jim heard Emiko's giggles restart again.) 'What have I told you about running off on your own? Especially in a place filled with as many Muggles as this!'

'Sorry, Gran…'

'Don't you sorry me! Just don't do it!' She turned to the Roths. 'My grandson hasn't been bothering you, I hope?'

'Not at all, ma'am,' Jim's dad replied. 'It was a pleasure meeting him.'

'Good. Well then, Neville, we'd better be going, _hadn't we?_'

'Yes, Gran,' Neville replied meekly.

The pair started heading off, but suddenly Mum, who seemed to have been frozen ever since Neville first appeared, unfroze and called out, 'One moment!'

'Yes?' The old woman turned around again.

'Would I be right in thinking that you are going to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?'

There was a pause. 'Yes, that's right. It's Neville's first year at Hogwarts.'

Mum beamed. 'Wonderful! It's our Jim's first year too, but we weren't sure how – well, how to get to the platform.'

The old woman's face softened. 'Oh, of course. You're Muggles. It's quite simple. You just run straight at the pillar and you should go straight through it and come out on the platform.'

That 'should' was not very comforting, especially when combined with the instruction to run at a brick pillar. However, it did explain why Neville had been aiming for the pillar and not the Roths, and Jim decided to believe the old woman.

Mum's smile had become somewhat alarmed, but it stayed on her face as she thanked the woman and turned to Jim. 'Well, Jim, are you ready?'

'Yeah.'

'Are you sure?'

Jim looked into her eyes. There was worry there, and fear, fear of the unknown.

'Yes, Mum, I'll be fine.'

She kissed him on the forehead. Dad did too, while Emiko gave him a large hug. Harry just smiled and patted him on the back. Jim took a deep breath and pushed his trolley after Neville and his grandmother.

'Don't forget to write!' That was Emiko. Jim turned and gave her a thumbs-up to show he'd heard.

By the time he'd caught up, Neville's grandmother had disappeared and Neville was getting ready to go.

'You ready?' Jim asked the other boy. Neville jumped and looked around at his voice.

'Yeah, I'm fine…'

'Nervous?'

'…definitely.'

'Of school or the pillar?'

'Both.'

'Do you want to go together?' The other boy nodded and Jim smiled. 'After three. One… two… three!'

* * *

Jim hadn't entirely believed that it would work, but evidently one's beliefs didn't affect the effectiveness of the magic. Either that or he was having a very vivid dream somewhere in a hospital bed. Jim decided to go with the former.

The platform was not very full yet, but it was only – Jim glanced at the clock on the wall – quarter past ten. Presumably the platform would fill more the closer it got to eleven o'clock. Jim looked around for the boy he'd come through with. He'd been rejoined by his grandmother, who was even now scolding him for something.

'Wand?'

'Yes, Gran.'

'Trunk?'

'Yes, Gran.'

'Toad?'

'Trevor's still here, Gran.'

Jim checked Icarus to make sure he was okay. The barn owl stared at him, as if in disdain, and slowly turned his head away.

Well, that was owls for you. Like cats, always annoyed at something. Jim sighed, and turned to look at Neville. 'Hey – hey, Neville –'

'Jim?'

'I was thinking – do you want to sit together on the train – I mean, I don't really know anyone here, and, I was wondering –'

Neville's face spread into a large grin. 'I'd love that, that would be great, I don't really know anyone else here either.'

Jim grinned back. 'Great! Let's get on then.'


End file.
